


The Morning After the Night Before

by BlackQat



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Campfire and cuddling, Consensual Sex, Cruel Klingons, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jason Isaacs as Lorca, Jayne Brook as Cornwell, Lingerie, Starfleet bravery and sacrifice, is there such a thing as vanilla smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-04-27 23:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14436096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackQat/pseuds/BlackQat
Summary: The Night Before:She cranes to look at Gabriel again. “Hmmm. I notice I am still wearing this lingerie.”“The panties are over there, Kat, you haven’t been wearing those for over an hour.” Running his finger from the bustier to the garter belt and stockings, he says, “I’ll take care of these remaining items.”The Morning After://They don’t care about lives that are not Klingon.// Then, almost despairingly: //What do we do against such an enemy? Do we compromise our values?//U R G E N T === U R G E N T === U R G E N TThe bulletin line unravels across the screen of her computer, and when she reads it she sits, numb, as tears run down her face.





	1. The Night Before

**Author's Note:**

> Continues from "Save a Starship, Ride a Captain."  
> Chapter 1: Sexxins between the Commodore and the Captain.  
> Chapter 2: Angst, Hurt/Comfort  
> Pre-Buran

**The Night Before**  

He has twelve weeks Earthside this time; his first command, Resolute, is due for extensive rehab in Spacedock. Her previous CO had done the best she could to maintain the ship and spruce her up before Gabriel assumed command, but because of funding delays, Resolute’s structure was still in pretty desperate  shape. Lorca’s chief engineer, Jurail, had his shop making replacement parts because he could no longer order them. Weapons, shields and hull structure were only viable with constant maintenance (engineering teams were on those jobs 24/7); her science labs and all her electronics badly needed an update – and Lorca’s been petitioning Starfleet Command for upgrades to her systems. Now she’s here for overhaul. Crews will be working in all areas of the ship every hour of every day.

“At last,” he said to Kat before they went to bed. “Resolute’s gonna be a beauty. Engineering masters and techs are swarming over her as we speak.”

“As we lie down to sleep they’ll be working.” She sits on the bed, still in her bustier, garters and stockings.

“You’re sleeping in that?”

“I hadn’t planned to. Aren’t you going to help me get it off?”

Gabriel chuckles. “I’ll be more than happy.” He bends down to kiss her. “Always ready, for you.”

She stands up and undoes the first hook at the top of her bustier.

“Permit me?”

A nod. Her eyes are shining and her dimples are in evidence. Gabe reaches up and lets down her hair, which tumbles past her upper back. Unhooking the second closure, he leans down to press his lips to her breasts. He slips around behind Kat, puts her hair to one side and runs the tip of his tongue from her shoulder to the nape of her neck, then goes back, kissing along the same line, up behind her ear, exhaling softly into her ear with a humorous, whispered sing-song, “I love you …”

Kat has her hands slightly behind her so she can curve them around his thighs and his ass (that gorgeous ass! He remarked once, “I feel you staring at me. Sometimes I think you like the sight of me walkin’ away more than …” and she interrupted to say, “It’s neck-and-neck between your face and your ass,” and they grinned at each other).

Now she folds her hands behind her waist so she can stroke his lower belly and comb her fingers through his bushy pubic hair, to encircle his cock gently and release, encircle, release, trace his length with her soft fingertips ….

He shivers as he responds to her gentle touch there, and the feeling of her against him, Kat, who he’s missed for so many months. He takes in deep breaths, enjoying the smell of her hair and the feel of it against his nose.

He’s cupping her breasts in their lace and net covering, softly massaging them, and bends his head over to kiss her collarbone and the hollow above it. There are traces of her perfume, that scent she wears only for evenings out, and it adds to his sensory load.  She turns slightly toward him and he’s kissing the side of her face, stroking his hands up and down the sides of the corset. She presses against him. They’ve just had glorious sex and he’s ready again, he wants to feel her silken folds around his fingers, his tongue, his cock. The deep heat of her. To hear her sighs.

The warmth of Gabriel’s hands comes through the netting and lace, their firmness rubbing the muscles of her torso or slipping down, down, to massage the insides of her thighs, out to her hips, back around over her behind. She can feel his erection at her lower back.

Kat turns fully now to face him, and their lips meet and slip into a deep kiss. Gabriel runs his hands down her back, and cupping her ass in his hands, fingertips grazing the cleft between her smooth muscled cheeks, pressing her close to him, then moving back just enough to bend and kiss her breasts through the lace net cups, tonguing her nipples. They’re budded already but responding, they stand out more and he sucks on each one.

She groans, long, and says, “Lift me.” Her legs are wrapping around his hips and he’s carrying her to position her against the wall, one spot among the framed drawings and paintings that’s occupied only by a softly woven Cancrian tapestry.  Kat has her face nestled against Gabriel’s neck, when she isn’t tipping her head back to sigh. He is holding her at the exact height where he can open her outer lips and stroke her clit with his cock, back and forth, then slowly enter her. And push, push, push and release, with repeats at different intervals.

She begins to exhale into his ear, “oh, fuck, fuck fuck _”_ she doesn’t know if she’s using it as a request or an exclamation, her senses are overwhelmed and she’s breathless with feelings, nerves are jangling, blood is pulsing, she’s not breathless she’s breathing hard. Gabriel’s slow but forceful and thorough, and sounds are escaping him from deep in his throat; his hands, one behind her lower back and the other between her sweaty shoulder blades, keep her steady on the wall, his muscled legs supporting much of her weight and his lower torso concave, now straight, concave now straight, as he thrusts and moves in her deeply; she’s molten and pulsing around him.

The back of her head is rolling to and fro against the wall as she groans with pleasure, her mouth is open, his too, and her muscles are tightening and tingling and, squeezing his eyes shut, Gabriel’s moving faster, and grunting with the thrusts.

Kat’s singular focus is running on overdrive, _fill me with you …_

And he’s either swelling or she’s contracting but her center feels so full and the movement … the moment … extends like an ebbing wave … and a new wave crashes in through both of them. “Kat. Kat,” he exhales hard, kissing the side of her face, and she comes, crying out sharply, “Ohh! Gabr’l” and after a moment, he laughs, “My legs … god I’m shaky, hon, come on,” and he carries her swiftly to the edge of the bed where she flops back and he sits on the floor between her spread legs and lays his head on her thigh. Her hand tousles his hair as she breathes deeply and says in a rush, “Oh sweetheart I’ve missed you so much.”

He’s just quietly snuggled against her leg smelling the scent of their sex, listening to her deep breaths level out, feeling her warm flesh against his cheek, and finding her free hand with his. And he hears Kat drift off to a light sleep, slightly snoring on the inhales, her torso and upper legs on the bed, legs bent and dangling at the knee, Gabriel, his head on her thigh, one hand in hers, the scent of their sex and delightful weariness easing him over into sleep.

Later he wakes up and looks up the length of her body and raises his eyebrow. She’s already awake, and giggles at him.

“What.”

“You look like you have a mustache.”

“What?” Then he gets it, the angle of his face from her point of view. “Should I grow one?”

“Only if you want to look ten years older.”

He snorts. “Wasn’t planning on it, but thanks for letting me know.” He stands, stretching briefly, then sits back down between her legs, his fingers tracing her smooth skin at the top line of her garter belt.

She cranes to look at him again. “Hmmm. I notice I am still wearing this lingerie.”

“The panties are over there, Kat, you haven’t been wearing those for over an hour.” Running his finger from the bustier to the garter belt and stockings, he says, “I’ll take care of these remaining items.”

“Why, thank you.” She rises to her elbows, propping up her torso, her hair flowing over the bed and some strands sticking itchily to her sweaty back. Gabriel’s sitting looking at her, an arm folded across each of her thighs and he’s wearing an expression of admiration, humor, and wonder. For a long minute they smile into each other’s eyes. Then he begins to roll one stocking down her leg, kissing her bare flesh as it’s revealed. “Mmm,” Kat shivers.

He takes off the stocking and massages her foot, starting with the toes, and working up to her calf muscles, then begins kissing the top of her left foot. Rather wetly, and leaving damp kisses as he works up her shin to raise her leg, straight, and tongue the crease behind her knee. And partway up her thigh.

“Tease,” she says.

“There’s still a whole ‘nother leg,” he protests. And so he repeats the process, and it’s equally thrill inducing as he proceeds up her right thigh now, higher and higher, licking and kissing. That scent of mingled sex up here is strong and arousing. He can feel himself growing tumescent. He’s inches away, licking the inside of her thigh, when her hand descends first, to stroke his hair, then the side of his face. And her fingers dive into her folds and disappear and reappear. He puts his mouth there, feeling her fingers, tasting her, and he gently pulls her fingers toward his mouth to suck each one in turn, massaging her palm with his one hand while the fingers of the other dip into her, ones and twos and thumb, now his mouth. It’s been some hours since he shaved and he can tell he’s making her sore, she starts drawing back from him.

“I’ll go shave,” he offers.

She shakes her head. “Do the other ways.”

“Sure.”

She takes his hand and pulls it to her mouth, tonguing his palm then taking in a finger. He loves this. It’s a treat for the senses and rocks him to his root, and he enjoys kissing her hands, her fingertips, sucking her fingers as well, especially when they come out of her center. They taste so good. She takes his wet fingers and slides them between the corset and her breast, and he massages and rolls her nipple with slick fingers.

He moves, then, putting his feet toward the head of the bed, and he begins sucking her nipples again, loosing another hook on the corset, running his fingers down, under the garter belt, massaging her from one hip to the other. Smooth skin, muscle beneath, and within that, the blood vessels and nerves that lead to her pubis and the wonders within. As he gently rubs her in large circles, he slides the garter belt down as far as he can reach, and she toes her way out of it. She’s nude except for this fascinating garment around her middle. And he’s suckling her nipples again, through the lace then beneath it, the contrast seems to make her happy, she’s groaning through a smile.

She curls over and up to reply in kind, nuzzling through his chest hair to his nipples, around the outside with their circles of hair, and back into the center, where she takes one in her teeth and gently nips. He bucks. She moves to the other and licks wetly, then dips two fingers below to her wetness and brings them up to slip her fingers around each aureole and flick her tongue hard on the buds there. He leans sideways into the mattress, thoroughly enjoying himself too. He’s heard some men don’t. _Too bad for them_ , he thinks.

He lifts his hand to move down to her mound. “More?”

She smiles, but shakes her head. “It’s getting a little too intense, you know what I mean, I’m starting to get numb. Please do that thing you do.”

So he nuzzles her pubic hair and works the tip of his tongue inward to her clit, and pat, pat, pat. Rubbing at this point won’t do, he has to very gently tease it to feel. He pats with his tongue tip. He parts the outer lips and blows on the tiny mound, then draws moisture from her opening with the tip of his tongue to that point, that glistens again.

He loves the look of every part of her from head to toe and the look of her sex, gleaming. He places his tongue gently and leaves it there for a moment, then very slowly draws it across and she arches up into his mouth, “Yes, now, yes,” and his fingers come back to thrust into her, and suddenly her hand is softly stroking his balls and holding them, squeezing them a little, moving them slightly in their sac, and then she indicates she wants him to move his hips toward her face, and slides him into her mouth, as far as he can go. His head is at the back of her throat and she breathes slowly through her nose so it doesn’t give her the feeling of choking.

Slowly she circles her tongue around his length, then moves back so she can slide the head out of her lips. And then back in, and out, then deep in. He gasps but keeps on gently encouraging the swelling of her clit with his tongue and soft fingertips. He prides himself a little on his lovemaking with Kat, they’re equally skilled in pleasing each other, but he’s made a careful study of her from the beginning and knows infinite ways to get her to come.

And slowly, slowly, he builds her to that point, and she’s gotten him ready too, and she comes, riding his hand, as he strokes her with gentle fingers, and she’s loud this time, really loud. And her licking and near-swallowing and swirling up and down and licking the 360 degrees of his corona and head finally have him groaning, and when she makes her loudest noise her mouth is surrounding him and the vibrations of it drive him nearly over the edge. He gets to his knees, positions himself over her, elbows near her shoulders, and slides into her swelling center, he’s moving fast, her knees are up around his waist, ankles crossed behind him, he’s sweaty, she’s sweaty, they’re making squishy noises as they speed to a finish. He can feel her coming again and his release comes quickly now and he shouts for joy.

“Whew, that brings new meaning to the slang term ‘banging’,” Kat mutters after a while. “That was _great_.”

“Or a ‘nice ride’.” Gabriel kisses her sleepy eyes. “I think we’ve worn each other out.”

“It’s the best kind of tired.”

He unhooks the corset and slips it out from under her. “Did this thing hurt you, all this time? You have red pressure marks.”

“Eh. It would be annoying if I wasn’t wearing it in a playful spirit. It pokes here and there, but not too badly. Only for you, sweetie.”

“I had fun to seeing you in it.”

“Mmm, I liked the kisses through the lace. Very stimulating. Not to mention your fabulous strip tease earlier.”

Gabriel grins and winks, then gently kisses her stomach, up and down the red lines from the bustier. He gets up and goes to the bathroom; she hears water running.

He swoops her up into his arms to carry her into the bathroom. She pins up her hair.

The water is steamy hot, he cools it down just a tad. He forgets she likes the temperature cooler than he does. A hot, hot shower is the perfect end for his day on the ship. Uncoils the muscles, relaxes him for sleep.

They wash each other, just slowly massaging and feeling the lather’s softness and their fingers and hands on each other’s bodies, smoothing away the sweat and stickiness.

Naked and deliciously weary they get to the bed and see the big wet spot in the middle. “Should I get some fresh sheets?” asks Gabriel.

Kat gets out a large towel. “Screw it.” They smooth it over the bed. “Later for that.”

Dry and warm, they snuggle into bed, spooned up together.

The yowling begins outside the bedroom door. “Damn, I forgot.” Gabriel lets Somtai into the room, so the cat can sleep on Kat’s other side. Eventually Somtai works his way over beside Gabe’s pillow; his purring is hypnotic.

It’s the best sleep Lorca’s had in months.


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kat gets terrible news, provoking arguments, deep discussions and a walk in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heartfelt angst.  
> Set several years before Lorca takes command of USS Buran.  
> A contrast to "The Night Before."
> 
>  
> 
> Please leave comments -- food for fanfic writers -- let me know what struck you, good or bad, happy or sad.

. . **THE MORNING AFTER**

Kat slips very carefully out of bed, even though Gabriel sleeps heavily when he first gets back. It must be that he’s not constantly tuned in for changes in the “vibe” of the ship; nor subconsciously listening for a page, “Captain to the bridge.”

Or it could be Somtai, their Siamese cat, curled on the pillow by Lorca’s head, purring soothingly.

As she comes back from the bathroom, sore from their exertions and pleasures of last night, she sees he’s lying flat on his back now (not on his left side, curled toward her half of the bed). His left hand’s stretched out a bit as if he was looking for her and fell back to sleep; his right rests on his abdomen, gently rising on each inhale. Gabriel looks content, happy even. In the few days before he returns to his ship he’ll begin frowning in his sleep as if weighing problems and solutions, sometimes murmuring. But right now there’s that curve of a smile on the right side of his mouth. It’s good to see him so.

.

Kat pads into her office to review the morning Starfleet HQ feed. There’s a gathering storm: Klingon Houses vying with each other for supremacy, destroying Federation colonies, ships, supply lines and more.

They’ve been raiding Starfleet supply depots, with casualties to Starfleet personnel. Security and administrators, mostly, and (notes the cold Commodore part of her) they can be more easily replaced than shipboard personnel, because security and admin are two areas in which every Starfleet officer and specialist has training. Her lips tighten. She doesn’t like thinking like this but steels herself to it, because unless Starfleet can turn the tide completely against the Klingons there will be much more of this in the future.

Somtai paces in and silently jumps onto the desk; his bright blue gaze is calming.

Klingons are also getting resources from the Federation by pirating ships, but don’t want the ships, only the resources they can strip from them, dilithium, computer cores, wiring, metals. The Klingons are proud of their culture; their ship designs, everything, and they do not care for streamlined Federation style. Kat has seen pictures and holos of Klingon designs, very elaborate … decorative traceries over every piece of decking and bulkheads. They would be beautiful if they were not on warships. In some ways the Klingons have even beat the Vulcans in design aesthetics.

As for the Starfleet crews of the few pirated ships, many have been taken to Q’onoS, the Klingon home world, for public torture, humiliation and death. Others are pressed into slavery and work until they drop dead of exhaustion and malnutrition. _Our peace-oriented leadership needs to come to grips with this,_ she thinks. _The Klingon people do not care about our sense of morals or outrage. They don’t care about lives that are not Klingon._ Then, almost despairingly: _What do we do against such an enemy? Do we compromise our values?_

_._

_U R G E N T === U R G E N T === U R G E N T_

The bulletin line unravels across the screen of her computer, and when she reads it she sits, numb, as tears run down her face.

.

.

Gabriel Lorca is having a lovely dream. It may even be a memory, but it’s dreamlike and in a place he hasn’t been in quite a while, the US region of Hawaii.

He’s lying on his back in the warm sunlight, and Kat is naked above him, riding him, her eyes closed, and they are squeezing shut as she climaxes, crying out, “Gabriel!” and he’s right there with her, groaning, “Kat, Kat honey I love you—”

Wait—

He’s waking up, this is not a dream. She’s not riding him, but atop the bed, on her knees beside him, she does have her hands on him, specifically, on his chest—

“Kat? … Th’fuh?” He blinks his eyes forcefully to wake all the way up. Still his voice is not quite clear as he says, “What—?”

“Gabriel,” she’s saying, “Please please hold me, make love to me, please.”

He would grin, but her tone of distress prevents him. It would be a hell of a wake-up, but for the desperate look on her face, the trembling of her mouth and chin, the tears, her eyebrows knit up. He lifts a hand to stroke her face, gently thumbs away a tear streak, then she grabs it and kisses wetly from his fingers to his palm.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Because there’s something. Even as groggy as he is, it’s obvious.

“Please let’s not talk right now.” She’s stretched out beside him now, pulling on his shoulder.

“You’re _crying,_ Kat.”

“I need you, Gabriel. I need you inside me.” The words are a bit slurred because her mouth is trembling so.

He curls on his side to embrace her. After a while, he smoothes back her hair and says, “Honey. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Kat holds his hand against her cheek, her eyes closed, trying to firm up her mouth. Her breaths, coming short at first, lengthen out.

She looks at him. Her eyes are red; she’s not the lucky woman who looks beautiful when she cries, but her skin doesn’t get ugly-blotchy, just pink. Her eyes well up again just because she’s looking at him.

“Is it somethin’ I did?”

Kat frowns, shaking her head. “No, no. I can’t. …I can’t bear the thought of losing you,” she says all in a rush. “I can’t.” She reaches around him and squeezes his chest so tightly he grunts.

“Honey you’re not gonna lose me.” He kisses her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. “I promise I’ll always do my best to come back to you. Please tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m … I’m sorry. Gabriel, Jhimal—” her voice squeaks on the name.  “… Jhimal is dead.”

Jhimal, the Andorian who was an Academy classmate of Lorca’s. She later went to Command Training School with him and Kat. Jhimal was a warrior, and agreed with Gabriel on many aspects of starship command.

Lorca’s face goes blank as Cornwell tells him how their friend died.

“The Dauntless, the Khutar and the Triomphe went head-to-head with two Klingon destroyers and three battle cruisers. Khutar and Triomphe were boarded and the crews taken prisoner. The ships are probably being stripped by the Klingons for parts.

“As soon as the Klingons boarded Dauntless, Jhimal initiated self-destruct. She took 35 Klingons out with her crew.”

Gabriel breathes out. “She was fierce, our Jhimal.” He closes his reddening eyes. He clears his throat. “Last time I saw her we talked about the Klingons’ advanced technology. We both thought how strange it is that their technology is so highly developed, and their society – what we know of it – is so vicious. Then she said, ‘Technology does not generate compassion. Only people can do that. But first, we must bring peace.’” His tongue feels thick. “And yet … she was the best battle commander I ever worked with.”

Jhimal is the first good friend he has lost in this way.

His chest tightens, and his eyes are hot and his vision gets blurry. His diaphragm jerks, and Katrina holds him, her eyes streaming as she feels him shaking, weeping. “My friend,” he moans, once, and his sobs are rhythmic and soft. Kat strokes his head and neck, kissing him gently once or twice, whispering, “I’ll miss her,” as she cries too.

After a while she says, “Gabriel, I need you, I need you on top of me, inside me, _please_.”

He wants this too, wants to affirm life, and their connection. He rolls over onto her, his pelvis over hers. She spreads her legs, putting them around his waist. He quests briefly and finds her entrance, sliding in deep. “Ride me hard, Gabriel.”

And he does. It’s not usual for her to issue peremptories like this, but if he can fulfill this aching need in her—in them both—he will.

It’s pounding, sounding sex, driving, groaning, sweaty, and when they come they’re both loud.

And Kat is gasping, now sobbing, tears flooding her eyes. She sometimes weeps when she has a thorough orgasm, but … he knows. He feels the same.

Gabriel lies beside her now, and takes her in his arms, kissing her face where the tears come down, stroking her hair, her shoulders, her back. Memorizing the feel of her.

.

Thirsty after their exertions, Lorca gets out of bed and gets two glasses of water, bringing them back to bed. He’s drunk half of his already. Kat’s sitting up, cross-legged, the sheet wrapped up around her, not out of modesty, but because the air’s a bit chilly. Gabriel “runs hot” so she keeps the room cool at night to be able to snuggle with him and not sweat. Sweating brings her nightmares.

She drinks, and says, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere for a few months, Kat.”

“You know what I mean. Couldn’t you get a starbase job?”

He looks sideways at her and clicks his glass to the bedside table. “You know the answer to that, hon. I’m a ship captain, not a desk driver.”

“Oh don’t be insulting.” She says it in a jocular way, but they’ve been here before.

“Sorry.” He picks up her hand and kisses it. “I know I act dismissive sometimes. The Admiralty has an important job to do, but you know I resent them sometimes.”

“I know. And I know you. It was stupid of me to say it—”

“No, not really. I might do it someday, if I make it to Admiral.”

She clutches his hand tightly.

“That’s not what I meant, hon. You know how stubborn I am, I doubt they’d promote me above Fleet Captain or Commodore.”

“Well, that’s true enough.” The corners of her mouth curve a bit and he sees her dimples. He kisses her face there.

“Thing is, I’m stubborn because I know the field, I know it with my heart and soul … and my mind, especially that. And y’all at Headquarters have no idea what’s going on out there and I do, and the orders I get sometimes, well—”

“We’re making strategic decisions for the good of the entire fleet, you know that.”

He gets up again, and she looks at him, scanning over and over, memorizing how he looks in this light, the brightness of the sky lighting and shadowing his body, rife with male beauty. His fitness, muscularity, his pale skin dusted with freckles and chest and belly hair, his long feet, his big capable hands, and the face she loves more than any other in her world … topped by messy, wavy hair, which he’ll put right as soon as he senses it.

He’s leveling his sharp blue eyes at her now. “Y’know that Vulcan saying, ‘the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few’? Well I think, sometimes, it’s bullshit. When Terral was my commanding officer … whenever he said that, I knew every time that some binary thinking shit was about to go down. We always got fucked up for it because he would not think tactically. Vulcans make great chess players because they’re good at strategy, but for some reason he was a shitty tactician. And god forbid he listen to a lowly lieutenant, even in conference. He was a fucking autocrat—”

Kat interrupts. “Every CO is different, you know that, Gabe.”

“But why did the Admiralty promote him? They shouldn’t have, plain and simple. He should’ve been running … I don’t know, Acquisitions or Legal or something. A fucking—” He stops his rant. Kat’s heard it before. He dislikes—possibly hates—Terral, because he lost 23 crewmembers in one deployment, due to a stupid error Lorca could have prevented, had he been CO. But Lorca was younger then, and not positioned to challenge the captain except in the planning stages. He’d tried, and been shut down. And lost seven members of his Security division as a result.

“Unlike Terral, I do what’s effective tactically. If I’m lucky enough to have time and space to strategize, great, but otherwise I’ll act when there’s action to be taken. Risk is our business out there, and Starfleet captains have autonomy.”

 “Not complete autonomy.”

“And that’s what drives us batshit crazy, hon, the oversight, the fucking micromanagement!” He rounds on Kat, who raises her eyebrows. “Don’t you get frustrated with the idiocy? The bureaucratic bullshit? All the rules for the Admirals in the back offices? Don’t you hate the decisions they make sending ships where they’ll ‘make waves’, and hold ships back when they should deploy them? Don’t you ever get pissed off?”

Her voice comes out loud and a little strained: “Of course I do! What kind of fool do you take me for?” She’s standing up too, picking up the glasses from the bedside table and walking out to the kitchen to refresh them. But her hands are shaking and she drops one. “GOD DAMN IT!” she shouts, stepping away. She turns and points at Gabriel, her eyes on fire. “Don’t you _ever_ accuse me of being one of the herd! You have no idea what goes on. The high-level politicking, the backstabbing bullshit, the promises people make and then break, leaving you waving in the wind, helpless to stop a stupid, stupid decision.” Her eyes get bright and she waves her hand high in frustration.

“We have to use a majority process! It’s the only way with the different Federation planets and their various ethics. Federation members have many things in common, yes! But we also have big differences. The Andorians are quicker to suggest battle; the Tellarites are eager to use diplomacy but only so they can argue; the Vulcans – my god – their logic sometimes is so cold, and other times so obstructive. Yes sometimes I have to be one of those people, making decisions that are not the best, but I aim to make them not the worst either. I’m trying every day. Every. Day. And I hate it! Sometimes I wish I were a practicing psychiatrist again, a counselor at a Starbase or a colony.”

“So why don’t you,” he says softly now, picking his way around the broken glass. “Why don’t you take yourself out of that shithole and do what you love.” He goes to hold her.

She jerks away. “Because I’m fighting for all of you captains, you _fuckwit!_ ”

“Kat—”

She shakes her head at him. “I’m going to take a shower. Computer – run sweeper vacuum, kitchen floor.” Just then, Somtai wanders out of Kat’s office and walks toward the kitchen. “Somtai, NO!” she screams at the cat, who bolts for the bedroom. Kat goes into the bathroom, slams the door, and Gabriel hears the shower.

He follows Somtai, who’s now sitting on the bed, doing the “embarrassed cat” groom, and pets the Siamese’s silk-smooth coat. “Just you and me, pal, in the shit.” Somtai’s blue gaze is inscrutable as usual, but Gabriel’s shows worry.

After a minute or two he stands up and knocks at the bathroom door. Opens it partway. She hasn’t locked him out. “Kat? May I join you?”

The shower door cracks open. Kat’s beautiful back is turned toward him, water streaming her hair down to her waist. She’s lithe, long-muscled, perfect. Perfectly lovely. He steps into the shower and she turns to him. “Oh Gabe, I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one who owes you an apology.” He holds her close and they rock together as if barely dancing.

.

They’re dressed casually, sipping cappucino outside. Wearing thick sweaters against the chill, their view of San Francisco Bay blanketed by fog, they’re making plans for the next weeks. Kat finishes her cup, goes inside, and after a long few minutes Gabe looks for her. She’s in the kitchen, weeping silently at the sink, still holding the espresso pot.

“You’re crying.”

She ignores him, disassembles the metal pot and places the espresso filter and pot quietly into the dish fresher. He strokes her hair away from her neck, and hugs her gently, his lips at her shoulder, moving to her nape. “What is it, Kat.”

She talks to the window. “I love you too much, Gabriel. If I didn’t it would be easier on both of us.”

He frowns, kissing her shoulder again, then propping his chin there, looking up at her profile.

“I worry about you all the time lately,” she says. “The Klingons … I’ve just got to stop imagining what they’ll do if they capture you. And then as Chief of Personnel I have to pitch a bitch, fight within the bureaucracy, trying like hell to get the best people out to the front lines and the forward starbases and home again. Sometimes we get shitty intel. And pass it on to you in the field. How we should manage the fleet, who goes where, what ships are best to put in what sector, whose feathers are going to get ruffled on the Federation Council if we put X ship in Y territory. Compromising what you need so we can move forward and get _most_ of the things you need.”

He straightens a little, hugs her tightly from behind, and lays his cheek on top of her head. She smells so good.

“Here’s what I worry about,” he says in a low register, his breath in her hair. “Starship operations. My command, what condition is my ship in and what worries do my crew have, are they battle ready? Planning. Drilling my crew in war fighting. Duty rosters. Strategies to deal with Klingon flight formations and means and methods of engagement. The latest intel. And you, back here, worrying about me and mine.”

She turns to face him and kisses his cheek tenderly, then his frown, then his mouth, and he deepens the kiss, then gentles it back to kiss her face all over, down her neck, to her collarbone.

“You are so good to hold,” he says after a minute.

“Thanks, you’re pretty nice too.”

She clutches him tight, then steps back. “I also worry about my feelings for you if I get promoted to a sector command … if they’d interfere with my making solid decisions.”

He gusts out a sigh. “What about a Starbase command? What if you didn’t oversee the sector I patrol? For godsake, Kat.”

“What if I’m assigned to oversee your sector?”

“Then turn it down!”

She glares at him. “Easy for you to say.”

“Or transfer me if you have to, out of your sector.”

“Off your command? Are you crazy?”

“Move the ship. Or transfer me to command another ship. Hell, I’ve already got a year on Resolute, two or three more and I’ll be moving to a bigger ship, right?”

“Probably. But we have to be ready for changes, Gabriel, we can’t count on things staying the same for us.” Her eyes are welling up again. “In fact can we even count on things continuing? Will you still be there—” She claps her hand to her mouth, too late.

“I can’t think like that for godsake, I have to be out there keeping my crew at the ready, I can’t keep worrying about things I have no control over!”

“I know you can’t, I’m sorry,”

Gabriel squeezes her close. “Maybe we should stop talkin’ about the future and live right now. Okay?”

“You know that’s not the way my mind works.”

“Which is why you’re at HQ not in the field.”

“Is that supposed to be—”

“That’s not how I mean it, Kat. You’re good at thinking long term, that’s why you fit there. But from where I stand, I think short term. Supplies and materiel for the next evolution. Personnel, enough people in the critical positions. Solutions to various battle scenarios. Drills in same. Action as necessary or as ordered.” He bends to kiss her. “And I know it’s your job to see a wider field.”

Katrina makes sarcastic air quotes with her fingers. “Yes, the Grand Design. I’m just not sure how much longer you and I can—”

“Come on. That old trope? Conflict of interest? You know what, if the leadership suspect that’s gonna happen, they should change your assignment.”

Kat gives him a steady look. “To what, Starfleet Medical?”

“Why not?”

She pulls away. “I’m in the Command section because I wanted to make a difference at—”

His voice cuts across hers. “—What the hell are we doing?”

“What do you mean, we’re discussing—”

“No. We’ve _found something to argue about_. Now we’re arguing for the sake of arguing. The hell with that. I’m going for a run. I’ll be back.”  He whips off his Aran sweater, down to a long-sleeved T, slips on some running shoes and heads out. He’s all in dark blue, head to toe, and Kat admires his form before he lets the door slam behind him.

_Is this the last time?_

.

The door slams. He walks in, all sweaty again, but smiling broadly, and kisses her cheek.

“You look cheerful.”

“Oxygenated my brain, got some tension out, now I’m mellow. How are you doin’?”

“I’m scared.” Kat moves in for a hug. He smells of fresh air ... now. She gives him a look.

Gabriel sits on the couch, takes off his running shoes. Standing he strips off his T-shirt and throws it and the trainers into the fresher. He looks deep into Kat’s eyes and puts his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want to lose you over this. Believe me, my survival’s pretty high on my list of Important Things. Please don’t worry so much. Worry never did a thing, except on the grand planning scale.”

“I know, you’re right.”

“ ‘Course I am.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles.

“Asshole.” She kisses his cheek, then his mouth, and says, “To the shower, you.”

He disappears into the bathroom, showers, and is out, dressed in jeans and a sweater, shaved, combed, and smelling fantastic, in about five minutes. This always amazes her.

“Hey there, Zippy. Mmm, you smell so much better now. What do you want for breakfast? Besides coffee.”

“Let’s do a hiker’s breakfast. What do you say ... Mount Tam? North?”

She grins. “Sounds good. Better still, let’s hike, then camp.”

 

They’ve been quiet for much of the day, just enjoying each other’s physical presence, holding hands, watching each other walk (Kat enjoys the view from behind him, and says so, and he laughs, as usual, saying “I appreciate you from every angle, honey.”).

Smelling the freshness under the redwoods, noting the droplets of mist on the ferny undergrowth, the crunch of woody detritus under their feet, they love being outdoors together.

Eventually they make camp by a creek. They’ve done it so many times, things come automatically and they’re set up in under 20 minutes. “You got the stones to take a swim?” Gabriel’s eyes are sparkling.

She grins. “You bet. Skinny dip, though.”

They strip off their clothes and run down to the stream, splashing each other. “GodDAMN, it’s cold!” he yells, and dunks himself. Kat is already floating, she always runs in as fast as she can to get quickly past the shock of cold water. Gabriel’s swimming rapidly, almost as if he’s doing laps; she’s leisurely backstroking and floating, looking up through the leaves to a deepening blue sky. He stands up quickly, slicking back his hair, water pouring off him.

She swims over. “Want to make love? We can stand on the bottom, so, no flailing limbs.”

He pulls a face. “Sadly, there’s been significant shrinkage. I think we’d better wait until I’m warmer.”

Kat dives and takes a look, comes up smiling. “What is it your mom says? ‘Bless your heart.’”

“Not fair. You have protective folds.”

She sidles up, the currents around her stirring against his skin, slips her arms around him and kisses him.  “We’d better get out soon, your lips are turning blue.”

“Yours are too, dawlin’.”

Dusk is coming in, with cooler air, and they towel off. “This is when I remember how great it is to have sonics in the shower,” he says, donning his clothes. Kat, already clothed, is bending to wring out her long braid, then wrings it out in a towel, then winds her braid around her head and puts on a floppy beanie.

Gabriel’s made a small fire in the rock circle on the site. After they’ve eaten, they’re watching the flames, sitting together.

“So,” he says quietly, “Can we take life moment by moment? At least when we’re together?”

“Don’t you want a promotion? Then we could stay at SFHQ …” Kat looks heavenward, a hand on her chest, with a silly smile. “... build a house … have a couple of kids …”

“Fuck no. Maybe in ten years.”

“I’m not ready to be a householder either. And I know you’re damn sure not ready for that.” She squeezes around his waist. “I’ll work on shifting around you if my assignment changes. Or shifting you.”

“All right then. Problem solved. At least for now. Are we okay?”

Kat nods, and they sit quietly for awhile, nestled together; sparks from the fire drift upward like reverse meteors and disappear.

“Do you remember that time Jhimal head-butted you at rugby?”

Gabriel rubs his forehead. “Knocked me out cold. I swear she dented my forehead. I had headaches for a week afterward.”

“How could I forget? You used to be such a whiner.”

He frowns down at her. “I did not.”

“Oh, I see now. Just a ploy for my sympathy.”

He smirks. “Worked, didn’t it.” Looking up at the stars that are visible through the tree tops, he says, “Command Training School: Jhimal said she’d take out any ship that threatened her crew. And she was the first one out of the Resistance training. Stabbed the ‘captors’.”

“She was never shy about edged weapons. Remember that time in the dive bar in San Fran?”

Gabriel laughs. “That knife she carried for ‘religious reasons’ – yeah, she had it up at that lughead’s throat in under a second. ‘Member what she said? ‘Do you enjoy your existence, pinkskin? I advise you to consider this.’”

“Fortunately her Starfleet ideals won out over Andorian instincts.” Kat smiles, shaking her head. “She was a warrior through and through. You agreed with her about taking out the enemy, I remember that. I was horrified at you.”

He shrugs. “I have a warrior’s sensibility in some situations. You know that.”

“I do _now_.”

The fire is down to glowing coals by the time they slide naked into their sleeping bag, underwear and tees handy in case of outside interruptions. They make love, an almost spiritual thing for Kat at times, as it is now. Gabriel is moving slowly in her, kissing her softly, and she’s stroking her hands down his back, cupping his rear, touching her lips to his neck. As she comes, tears slide from her eyes as she holds his warm body tight against hers, and he kisses them away. “I wish …” she says when they part from one another to lie side by side, her left hand in his right, across their stomachs. “I wish times like these would never end.”

He tilts his head at her. “Even times like these can get to be routine, admit it. We’re both Starfleet through and through.”

She stretches up to kiss him, and they kiss for a while. Gabriel is very good at this … among other things … and she smiles softly, as she strokes the face she loves best in the universe, “I know. I know we are. But always remember how much I love you, my Gabriel.”

.

_He sees Klingons marching through the passageways to Dauntless’s bridge. To Jhimal. She stands proudly, says, “Take me. Don’t take my crew.” She gets in close and is reaching for her knife when the lead Klingon bludgeons her and drags her off the bridge; they rain blows on the other officers, quickly subduing them; those who try to make a stand are brutally struck in the face._

_On Q’onoS the atmosphere is bright grey. As the Dauntless crew’s blood glimmers on their near-naked bodies in the light, chained together, staggering, the crowds along the street rain down ridicule, garbage, blood entrails, and excrement upon them. Clawed fingers pluck hair from their heads. Klingon hands rip at the Starfleet officers, laughing roughly at their screams as they kick them and grab their arms, dislocating shoulders as they shuffle along their route. They will be patched up enough to serve as slaves, in pain for the rest of their short lives, manufacturing parts for Klingon ships: decorative bulkheads and decks, scribed to exacting artisanal standards by their masters._

_The jeering grows louder. He sees Jhimal snarling at the crowd, daring them, taunting them in return, blue blood dripping down her face._

_Then suddenly, a huge, consuming flash of light—_

Gasping, he comes to himself, remembering that Jhimal blew up her ship and spared her crew from this horror, grateful to his friend that she saved so many officers from suffering. His breath catches hard, and, diaphragm jerking, he is weeping silently so as not to wake Kat. He rolls out of the sleeping bag when he feels like it may become more and walks away from the campsite toward the creek. He can see the ground now, in the pre-dawn light. Their arguments today underlined the possibility of losing everything he holds dear. Kat. His parents. His crew. His creaky ship, USS Resolute. He’s trying to be quiet, trying to calm himself, but it’s not working, and the part of his brain that’s heard Kat-the-psychiatrist for years says, _you need to grieve._ So he kneels on the ground, giving in to a moan of loss, covering his mouth because he doesn’t want to wake his dearest companion.

.

The sky is graying toward light when Katrina wakes. Gabriel is muttering in his sleep, and his breath is not coming easily to him. She is about to touch him and wake him, when he startles out of sleep and curls to his side away from her. She sees his back moving fitfully; then he gets out of their sleeping bag  and makes his way down toward the stream by which they’ve camped.

She hears a faint sound from him, grief, and remains where she is, allowing him privacy, crying her own silent tears for Jhimal, for her crew, valiant Starfleet officers, who fought against the incomprehensible evil that is cruelty. After a while she sees him take his crumpled T-shirt and dip it in the river so he can wash his face. He holds the wet cloth there, to cool his skin, then wrings it out and heads back toward her.

She stands up to go and meet him, putting her hand up to cup his cheek. In the dawn she can see the redness of his eyes and tiny, burst capillaries marring his fair skin.

She kisses him, and tasting the salt on her mouth, Gabriel takes an end of his wrung-out shirt and dabs her face.

“I’m here, Gabriel,” Kat says quietly. “I’m here for you as long as I live.”

Their eyes meet, and looking steadily at her, he says, “I’ll do my best to live as long as I can, love.”

They encircle each other, hugging tightly, as the sun comes up.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Do let me know!
> 
> Chapter Two is angsty. I cannot live without angst. Please let me know what you think.


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